The Space Between
by ohcyfan
Summary: What happens between Owen's panic attack and the final scene of episode 514 in the on-call room? This story fills in the gaps.


**Disclaimer:** All song lyrics are from _The Space Between_ by the Dave Matthews Band and are in bold italics in the body of this story. I have no rights to this song. All characters in this story are from Grey's Anatomy, and are the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. I do not own anything.

**A/N:** This is my take on what happened in _the space between_ Owen's panic attack and him sleeping on Cristina in the on call room. After watching the episode, I found this song going through my head and decided to look up the lyrics. Wouldn't you know but they fit the story pretty well!

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_**You cannot quit me so quickly  
There's no hope in you for me  
No corner you could squeeze me  
But I got all the time for you, love**_

It had been a long day, and an even longer night on call loomed ahead. Cristina's playful plans for the quiet moments she had hoped she and Owen might share had been derailed by his earlier freak-out. Things had moved from hot and sexy to clammy and uncomfortable in what seemed the blink of an eye. _What the hell **was** __that__, anyway?_ Hours later, she didn't know any more about it than she had when it first happened, even though she had navigated him through it somehow by instinct alone. She had been grateful to Dr. Dixon for inadvertently giving her a much-needed tool in her rapidly expanding arsenal of coping techniques, but had never in a million years imagined that she'd be putting this one to use again so soon after learning it. She still wasn't sure if it had worked on Owen the way it did on Dixon, or whether the simple act of holding him and not letting go in spite of his resistance had done the trick. _Whatever._ He had calmed down after a while, but refused to discuss what had caused his distress other than to say that he had "seen someone." Then he had been paged, and with a look of intense relief he had left the scene - and her. The haunted look in his eyes had stayed with her for the rest of the day, however, replacing the earlier flirtations like muddy footprints trampling a garden of budding spring flowers. Cristina still didn't know if this "someone" was a real person, an hallucination, a flashback, or a case of mistaken identity – to name only a few of the possibilities that coursed through her brain. _Did it matter?_ Probably not, but her curiosity had kicked into overdrive and she intended to get to the bottom of this sometime soon.

**_You know you went off like a devil  
In a church in the middle of a crowded room_**

The interesting thing, she reflected, was that she was not fazed. From that first kiss in the treatment room after her icicle injury, all the way through his fully clothed debut in her shower, not to mention the intensely hot commentary on her hairstyle this morning – Cristina was becoming accustomed to expecting the unexpected from Owen Hunt. If she was honest with herself, the continuing challenge of figuring him out had her hooked in a way she had never been hooked before. She was far too jaded to enjoy a predictable, steady relationship at this stage in her life. This _thing_ of theirs was starting to read like one of those twisty romantic thrillers, and she was starting to understand why people bothered to indulge in them in the first place. Being involved with Owen had her forever shifting gears, which kept her pulse racing and her adrenaline singing when he was around._ Bring on the noise, _she mused._ I can handle it._

**_All we can do, my love  
Is hope we don't take this ship down_**

Owen was supposed to be on tonight, but they had not seen each other since that earlier incident. As she approached the on call room, she wondered if he had changed his plans and gone home. She could understand if he would prefer to avoid her for a while. It's what she would have done in the face of the kind of discomfort she imagined he must be feeling. Still, thinking it best to err on the side of caution and not barge in loudly like she had earlier, Cristina gently opened the door and peeked inside. The bedside lamp was on and he was in there, sprawled out on his side on the single bed, fast asleep, an arm flung over his head to keep out the light. A book was lying open where he must have placed it as he was nodding off. She took a moment to study him in repose and ponder what to do. He was definitely out, but an underlying tension remained in his body as he slept, almost as if he was a cobra at rest, ready to strike at the slightest disturbance.

Cristina hesitated. She had come here in search of a few hours peace to dive back into Ellis Grey's journal, and perhaps catch some sleep between emergencies. The bunk bed on the other side of the room was vacant, and she smiled as she recalled sitting down that morning on sheets still warm from his body. She had briefly considered curling up in those sheets and catching a few z's, but had decided against it at the time. His comment about liking the back of her neck had pumped too much juice into her system, and she knew sleep would be impossible. She had gone back to work instead, where the subtle flirting had kept her awake and alert until... well... until.

_I could go over there now_, she thought, picturing herself crawling into that cold bed by herself, flipping open the journal and trying to concentrate on it with the awareness that he slept just across the room from her. _It would be a lot less risky. No chance of startling him and taking an unintentional fist to the face. _But nothing about those empty sheets was even remotely appealing, and without thinking too much more about it, she decided to opt for a riskier course. True, he might jolt awake, but she was prepared and figured she could dodge any errant flailing limbs if she had to.

_**But will I hold you again?**_

Cristina crossed to the bunk and grabbed the two pillows she found there. These she gently laid at the head of the bed where Owen rested, propping them against the wall to provide herself with some back support. She then sat down slowly and deliberately, careful not to shake the bed, and removed her shoes. His book lay open beside him, and she took a moment to examine it before placing it on the bedside table: _War and the Soul: Healing Our Nation's Veterans from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_. The face of the combat soldier on the front cover reminded her eerily of Owen. It was the eyes... the look in his eyes was the same. _Good_, she thought_, he's on the case. _When she had told him he had big problems a few days ago, he had agreed, but this was the first indication she had that he was actually doing something about it. She imagined there were easier books to fall asleep to; that he had chosen this one meant something to her and to their potential for a relationship. She slowly and carefully eased herself up next to Owen, who was wedged with his back to the wall, leaving her just enough room on the bed. So far he had not stirred, but when she finally edged up close enough that their bodies touched, he came awake with a start, then laid back down and closed his eyes.

"So you're still talking to me?" His voice sounded utterly exhausted.

"Who's talking? I'm reading." She picked up the journal and opened it.

"You're not... giving up? After... that?"

She snorted. "Not likely. If I were gonna give up, the shower would have done me in."

He let out a long breath. "This is a dream, right?"

A soft smile curved her lips at his vulnerable sincerity. "Do you want it to be?"

"Yeah," he sighed wearily. "Beats the hell out of the ones I've been having lately."

Cristina felt her heart thump in her chest. The saying _I feel your pain_ was such a cliche, yet she literally did feel his at this moment. She could not possibly imagine the thoughts and images that must plague him in the dark of night, but he had opened a window for her on that disastrous first date, and she had dared to look inside. The result was that her well-guarded heart seemed to allow him access where others were denied. Somewhat like his recounting of his best and worst surgery in her shower, this simple admission about his nightmares made her feel completely safe. She wanted him to feel the same, tried to will it into him by osmosis, and settled for running her hand through his hair. "Then it is. Go back to sleep." The small intimacy felt natural and right. Owen took it as an invitation, and draped his arm over her middle. "You ok with this?"

"Hey, I'm the one who got up here in the first place. Yeah, I'm ok with it."

"Then I'm really liking this dream." He moved even closer, and laid his head on her lap.

"What're you reading?" he mumbled.

"Meredith's mother's journal. She worked here a long time ago. Had an affair with the Chief. Very steamy. Now shut up and sleep."

"Ok." She felt him relax and could tell within minutes that he had drifted off, this time minus the tightly coiled energy she had noticed before. His weight felt substantial and somehow reassuring, and his body heat kept her warm as she became more and more engrossed in the the goings-on between Ellis Grey and the Chief. Blessedly, there were no interruptions, and she was unaware of how much time had passed when the door opened and Meredith burst in.

"Derek is act..." She stopped short at the scene in front of her. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I don't know. I just… Staying here."

_More than just staying here,_" Meredith thought. "Okay... Goodnight." She smiled and turned to leave.

"Uh… he's planning to propose."

There was a long silence. "Www…what?" Meredith tried to make sense of the statement, even as the pieces started to fall into place around Derek's bizarre behavior.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Cristina finally broke it. "The Chief," she clarified. Meredith's expression changed as she took in this new information. _The Chief, not Derek. _"Your mother writes he told her he would leave Adele, come back, get on one knee and propose, but I don't think he ever did."

"That's sad!"

"Is it?" They looked at each other for a long moment.

"Or romantic…" Meredith and Cristina exchanged a smile, and she shut the door behind her.

Cristina felt Owen begin to shake with silent laughter as soon as the door was closed.

"What?" she bonked him on the head lightly with the journal.

"Nice save, Dr. Yang." His eyes stayed closed, and his voice was hoarse from sleep. "Do you think she bought it?"

Cristina couldn't help the smile that was forming on her lips. "Shut up. You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I am." He settled back in. "Stop waking me up."

She smiled to herself and ran a hand down his arm, before turning the page and resuming her reading.

**_The Space Between  
The tears we cry  
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more..._**

**_The Space Between  
Your heart and mine  
Is the space we'll fill with time..._**


End file.
